"What's cheese like? When you melt it?"

William looked back at Tracy. He was smoking a menthol cigarette, tucked between his green sheets, the comforter tossed to the floor in a damp pile, accompanied by Tracy's clothes. He watched William pull on his jeans and button his shirt, surely delighting in his drawn brow and pursed lips. Tracy aimed to confuse, or at least that was how it seemed. "What?"

"Cheese. When you melt it. What's it like? Creamy or oily?"

"Oily, I guess." William grabbed his keys off the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. It was after midnight, and he wasn't eager to go home to an empty apartment, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome. Tracy was a nice guy but most guys were nice after they fucked someone. "Why?"

"What do green beans look like?"

"Seriously? Uh, like... little green rectangles I guess. Soggy." He tipped his head back when Tracy dragged his fingers through his curls, nestling in the thickness of them, scratching at his scalp. "Mmm... can I stay the night?"

"You're the one who got dressed." Tracy ashed in a glass of water on the nightstand and made room for Willian to lie down after he'd stripped to his briefs. "I never said you couldn't. How long have we been seeing each other now?"

"Uhm... two weeks, give or take a couple days?" William guessed.

Tracy nodded and lit a second cigarette after dropping the smoking butt of his first in the same glass. "Right. What's your favorite breakfast cereal?"

"I don't—"

"When you were a child, then." Tracy started to toy with his hair again, then massaged his neck until William eased closer. He put an arm around his chest. "Also, would you like one? I forgot to ask."

"Yeah, uh..." He fumbled to get a hold of the skinny cylinder hastily shoved between his fingers, and Tracy pressed the lit end of his to William's. He took a long drag when it caught. "Thanks. But uh, the kind with marshmallows, I guess."

"Uh huh. Do you remember what they were called? The name on the box." Tracy had red hair, oranger at the tips, and unnervingly green eyes that looked brighter caught in dim lamplight cast through the window from a neighbor's porch. His eyelashes were copper, and his palms were soft, his knuckles pink and delicate as he brushed them against William's jaw.

"Stars and something. I dunno, I don't remember. What the hell are you getting at?" William poked a freckle on Tracy's cheek and smiled when Tracy kissed him. They both tasted like stale smoke. "Seriously, I don't get it."

"I just want to know you a little better. Will you get lunch with me tomorrow?"

William nodded and put out his cigarette, resting his head on a green pillow. It smelled like sweat, laundry detergent, and the cologne Tracy always wore. "Okay. Yeah, sure. How about breakfast, if I'm staying here anyway?"

"Mmm, brunch," Tracy compromised. He let his eyes fall shut, and William took his cigarette from him. It was a wonder the apartment hadn't gone up in flames before. "I love brunch. Good night."

"Wait. I'm serious, though, I don't understand what you were getting at..."

"How much did your dad make?"

William startled. "Uhm-"

"Your mom, then."

"She didn't—"

"I know." Tracy stretched, arching his back, rising off the bed before he settled heavily. "We can talk more in the morning. I think I like you, but I'm tired."

"Oh." He listened to Tracy's breaths steady and turned to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. He touched his neck, the faint blue veins barely hidden beneath freckles and translucent pale skin. "Yeah. I think I like you, too."